


I'll show you how it's done

by Sevynlira



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Not Innocent (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), First Kiss, M/M, Making Out, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevynlira/pseuds/Sevynlira
Summary: Crowley has decided that it is up to him to teach that sweet angel the ways of love
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 215





	I'll show you how it's done

It had dawned on Aziraphale that perhaps Crowley has some general idea about angels that might be slightly wrong. Which is pretty amazing considering he had been one once upon a time. But somehow he seems to have some absurd notion about angelic naivete that is downright infuriating sometimes. They both have been living down here among humans since the dawn of civilization and still the demon tends to assume, well, a lot of things.

Right this moment for instance, the waiter has been serving their table with all the attention and style that a proper Michelin starred restaurant would demand. About halfway through the second course, the squirming and eyebrows had started. 

Of course, Crowley is under the impression that just about every fourth waiter probably has some burning desire for Aziraphale. It’s classic projection and it would be absolutely infuriating if it also wasn’t ridiculously adorable. The way that the demon obviously believes him to be catnip to every potential suitor makes the demon stalk and scowl and get all spiky. It’s stupidly attractive. 

There are limits though, and Aziraphale has endured enough of Crowley’s stubborn obliviousness to his own blinding infatuation. It was one thing to stay circumspect and keep everything contained when they were servants to their own respective realms. But that has passed now. They are released from the obligation to serve any one side other than their own and the release of it should have given them free reign to say all the things they held back before. 

Crowley’s projection had gotten worse. He seems to be under the impression that Aziraphale is going to collapse into a hedonist frenzy and take eager bartenders and horny waiters home. And worse, he seems absolutely intent on not admitting everything his bright eyes say when they are sharing a bottle.

They have returned to the bookstore after their meal and the shades have been tossed somewhere on his rolltop desk and those snake eyes are saying it again. Flicking from his mouth to his hands with open hunger. His mouth of course, is saying something altogether different. 

“I could tell, angel!” He mutters with drunken conviction. “He would have gone for it. Easy. Couldn’t take his eyes off.” Crowley nods and Aziraphale resists the urge to roll his own. “You don’t have to worry now. Nobody will care. You can just put a tiny little temptation out there. It’s easy!” Crowley gestures with his wine glass. “Do it every day. I do. I could--I could show you how!” 

Suddenly Aziraphale is quite sure he should be a little bit more sober because surely Crowley isn’t weaving across the room to tug him to his feet and urging him to sit on the soft sofa. Surely he isn’t glowing with inspired energy and sitting himself right down next to Aziraphale with the intention to “teach” him how to seduce some poor unwitting waiter.

He IS, and miraculously doesn’t notice that Aziraphale has quite casually returned at least half of his alcohol to its original place. Being a bit more sober has intensified his awareness of this entire situation and his wide eyes are, of course, translated to amazed innocence.

“You have to sit close, but not like, TOO close. Humans get nervous if you seem nervous. Just. You have to relax. Like this.” Crowley sprawls in demonstration. His long slender thigh is pressed right against Aziraphale’s hip. Suddenly they are closer than they have been in a few hundred years. Crowley’s warm hands are stroking down the length of his arm. “Here. Relax your back, angel. Turn a little bit to face me. Not all the way. Just a little.” Aziraphale carefully follows his instructions until they are curled on the couch in the intimate pose of long conversations and make out sessions. Crowley has adopted his typical lanky posture of noodle spined leisure and Aziraphale had found some natural instinct to curl his legs up onto the couch. 

The casual position has obviously drawn attention to the fact that he is still wearing his jacket and evening slippers. It won’t do at all, Crowley declares and there is some shuffle of adjustment for him to wriggle out of his jacket and toe the slippers off. They resume the comfortable intimacy of the pose only for Aziraphale to immediately protest because Crowley is still wearing HIS jacket and his outdoor shoes! Crowley blushes so prettily but settling down into the couch in his shirtsleeves with clear sight of the arching delicacy of the demon’s collarbones just beneath a thin grey jersey knit is worth it. 

He is so close. Aziraphale can see the shadow of his imitated close shave and the little brazen curl just behind his ear that refuses to be tamed. He wonders absently if Crowley even notices that he keeps touching him. Adjusting and petting, just now reaching toward his wrist and unbuttoning his sleeve. Slowly those deft fingers begin to fold the sleeve up his forearm. The angel doesn’t dare break the spell, and instead just quietly watches as Crowley repeats the motion with his other sleeve. Without even a hint of hesitation, he flicks his bowtie loose, tucks his finger in the twisting center of it and with some clever move has the top button of his shirt undone. 

The angel dares to chance a glance into Crowley’s eyes, risking breaking this little spell, but he finds warm affection and gentle regard there. There isn’t anything startling or unexpected. But it is softer than any expression Aziraphale has ever seen resting in the yellow gold flash of his gaze.

Crowley nods with satisfaction at his work. “There.” he says and places his palm flat on the angel’s chest. “Perfect.” He whispers before finally the moment has snapped him back to awareness of what exactly he had just been doing. A dull pink flush floods his face and he blinks about ten times. “I mean. You should get comfortable. Uh. Like this.” His hand jerks back with a guilty twitch and he nervously wipes it on his black jeans. His eyes flick and dart around the room in some desperate nervous attempt to reroute the obvious direction his thoughts had taken him. 

Aziraphale rescues him by jumping into the roleplay that Crowley has cast him in. “All right” he says in a matter of fact tone. “First sit close. And then get comfortable. Relax.” he nods as if taking in every step with scholarly seriousness. “What is next?” he asks and tips his face up at the demon with the projection of every ounce of angelic innocence he can muster. 

It works perfectly and Crowley is once again taking up the determined role of instructor. “Yes. The next step are some soft touches. Nothing too fast, angel. Humans need to work up to the point really. There are some signals you can make and show that you are interested. They will show you directly if you should stop at this point.” 

Aziraphale dons his most studious face and nods seriously. He is so intent on listening to his demon that he catches the soft hitch of his breath as Crowley reaches to slide his fingers to touch just above his knee. His hand trembles a little bit before steadying and pressing his palm warm and steady there. Aziraphale glances up at his face to see Crowley’s dark lashes hiding his downturned eyes. He is watching his hand where it rests with fascination. His lips part just a little and his freckles add to the vulnerable picture he makes. He is beautiful like this. He sinks back into the dazed state he had been in while folding the angel’s sleeves. He does seems to rally quicker this time, snapping back to attention and trying to return to his lesson. “Uhm. Touches. On the arms or legs. Or face. Throat.” His list seems to be getting pretty specific and the angel takes the instruction seriously. 

Raising one hand, Aziraphale strokes his fingers there at the nape of Crowley’s neck. He knows exactly where. He rubs his thumb just over the snake tattoo in front of the demon’s ear. That place had been taunting him for a few thousand years. It has the twin effect of pushing a soft huff of breath from Crowley’s parted lips and pulls his face closer. The hand slides higher on the outside of his thigh, nearer to his hips, and those slender fingers clench as if hanging on. Aziraphale rubs his fingertips down the edge of Crowley’s jaw and along his throat. The demon lifts his chin the smallest bit in offering and Aziraphale takes the invitation and presses his thumb into the center of his throat. Crowley swallows as if he wants to feel the pressure and the smallest hint of a whine manages to escape before he can swallow it back. 

There is the slightest feeling of wicked pleasure in snapping Crowley out of this soft moment by asking with feigned nonchalance, “Allright. What is next?” There is a dark joy in feeling the demon stiffen in surprise and shake himself a bit to get back on track. After being tormented by this gorgeous temptation for so long, it is about time he got back at the fiend! The reward of seeing Crowley try to drag his eyes anywhere but his mouth and failing terribly is such a deeply satisfying thrill. 

“Next?” Crowley asks with a hoarse rasp in his voice. 

“Yes. First sit close. Then relax and get comfortable. Then gentle touches. What is next, Crowley?” Aziraphale blinks his big blue eyes with the pure innocence of freshly fallen snow. The demon squirms and chances another glance at his mouth. Aziraphale licks his lips. Crowley stops breathing for a second. 

“Uhm. K-kissing.” Crowley says while darting his eyes away from the angel. As if he can hide the profound effect that being tucked right against him is having. Aziraphale doesn’t have to see his eyes to feel the soft tremble of his arms and to hear the galloping of his pulse. He is an angel and watching Crowley attempting to hide in such a completely mortal and human way is endearing and beautiful.

Before the demon can change his mind, Aziraphale is there. Touching his lips so softly to the corner of Crowley’s mouth. Only the most gentle brush. He isn’t ready to shatter this moment with anything less than sweet acceptance. He won’t take more than Crowley is offering right now.

His seduction instructor melts for him. Those warm hands slide around his back and his fingers clutch his shirt. His mouth trembles and spills a soft sigh against Aziraphale’s lips. It’s quite obvious that Crowley has forgotten who is teaching whom, because he takes every suggestion that the angel makes by following each press of his mouth with an echoing mirror of it. When Aziraphale tips the kiss to deepen it, Crowley does too and waits for the angel to touch the tip of his tongue against the seam of his mouth before opening sweetly for him. 

The distance between them shrinks to nothing and Aziraphale has lifted both of his hands to cradle Crowley’s face. The flex of his jaw as they kiss and the soft humming sounds of his pleasure seems to have some effect on the temperature of the room. Suddenly everything is so much hotter and the angel presses closer until he is crowding Crowley back into the sofa. 

The impossible dream of ever holding him like this was never as good as the reality of it is now. He couldn't have imagined the sweet careful tenderness that erupts from the wellspring of Crowley's warm touch. He skims his fingertips with reverent joy over the curve of Aziraphale’s waist and dips to gently scratch his nails over the back of his thighs. The aching slowness of his soft kisses are just short of innocent themselves. Full of hope and carrying a delicate portion of love in each one. He would scoff and yell a little bit if Aziraphale told him that he kisses like an angel should. With gentle pleasure and deep respect and tender pretty warmth. His mouth is like tasting the first sunrise. A bright hopeful thing that stretches and warms the world. 

Crowley begins to tremble in his arms. He breaks away to suck in a calming breath even though neither of them should have a need for it. Instantly he is drawn back into their embrace, as if it is impossible to leave. This time, his kiss stained lips are touching the edge of the angel's jaw, the apple of his cheeks, the arch of his brow. 

Crowley's hands have also taken up some interest in exploring and fumble with the buttons of Aziraphale's shirt. Just as his nose and mouth are nuzzling the tender skin beneath his ear, those clever hands have managed to work their way to bare skin. Crowley's thumb brushes the intensely sensitive tip of the angel's nipple and it shoots a blasting wave of pleasure straight from that spot to his groin. Aziraphale gasps Crowley's name and clings to him tighter. 

There is no mistaking the smug pleasure of that familiar smile, even when he can't see it. He can feel it touching his face as Crowley brushes the pad of his thumb deliberately over the tightening responsive peak. The angel whimpers and his hips churn forward to press his suddenly rampant cock into Crowley's hip. 

"You like that, angel?" He asks in a soft wickedly knowing tone that Aziraphale had never heard but had imagined enough times to fuel a million fantasies. He pinches that aching tender nipple between his fingers and steals the angel's next moan from his lips with another heartbreakingly gentle kiss. 

It's only halfway through this latest drugging kiss that Aziraphale realizes that he is about to come in his pants like an adolescent human from some couch makeout session. How had he gotten so carried away so fast? Immediately he is doused in embarrassment and jerks his hips back from the salacious humping he had been doing. His wide eyes immediately shoot down to the ridiculously swollen tent in his pants.

"It's ok. Angel. Completely normal. It happens like that." Crowley rushes to assure him. Mistaking his shock for bewilderment. "Really. It's fine. I don't mind at all." 

Aziraphale swallows the rising bubble of laughter at the total misunderstanding and immediately reaches to press his palm against the equally rampant ridge of Crowley's poorly restrained erection as if to reassure himself of exactly how normal it is. Crowley makes some attempt at language that instead sounds like a squawk of embarrassment at the angel's boldness in tracing his fingers over every hot inch of his straining bulge. "You don't mind? This is normal?" The angel asks as he presses his hand there. Crowley shudders and whispers. "It's ok Angel. See."

His eyes only grow wider when Aziraphale performs a ridiculously adept twist of his fingers and wrist to unbutton his fly and work the waistband of his underpants down enough to expose the flushed pretty head of his cock. "Angel! Wh-what are you doing?" He stutters as Aziraphale licks his lips intently and slides from the couch to the floor. His demon is too stunned and aroused to resist the way that Aziraphale yanks his jeans down his hips or arranges himself between his thighs. His face only burns hot with a blush and his hands twist in the couch cushions when Aziraphale grips his cock again, his touch so deft and experienced, thumb swiping through the dripping messy slit while pretty blue eyes watch him twitch and harden even further. 

"I'll tell you what I am doing, Crowley. If you let me, I am going to suck this absolutely gorgeous cock while I slowly stretch you open with my fingers. When I finally do let you come, it will be inside my mouth first. Then I am going to bend you over the arm of this couch and fuck you until you come on my cock too." 

Crowley can only stare with wide stunned eyes as his face turns bright crimson. But his prick gives an approving little jerk and drools a spurt of eager precome onto Aziraphale's fingers. 

"And do you know what you are going to do Crowley?" Aziraphale asks. He stills his hand and raises his brow as an obvious sign that he won't continue until he has Crowley's full attention.

Crowley shakes his head slowly.

"You are going to stop trying to hook me up with waiters."


End file.
